I Know Where You Stand
This is a short fic written for Nyx's wonderful The Destiny Games AU! It's about Avian Juniper dealing with his cousin's choice to volunteer as tribute. The Story When Icarus made his way up to the stage, Avian had wanted to scream. But the noises of the crowd were a mocking, deathly silence when Baga Yaga threw in her quip, and Icarus had already sat down, already resigned to his new destiny. Avian couldn’t focus for the rest of the afternoon and early evening. Usually, when things were tough, Avian immersed himself in housework. The regimented, routine of daily life seemed to do away with all the stresses and troubles. But now, everything seemed to trip him up, minor inconveniences that made way for major frustrations. The moment he broke down into tears was when a whole pile of washing crashed down on the floor below him. The house seemed suffocating now. Untying his apron, Avian made his way outside, where the garden was still messy and un-raked. The Juniper Tree outside did not shed leaves this season, but the other trees did. Green, red, gold covered the ground like blood on gold-tipped laurel leaves. The outside garden was a mess, Avian though, as he grabbed the rake and hoped that more housework would clear his head. It didn’t – the wind blew the leaves about too much, the ground was too hard and uncomfortable to walk on, and Avian tripped over his own feet far too much. Frustrated, he threw the rake across the lawn, and in a mad rush, kicked up the leaves until they fell scattered. Carelessly, he slipped on the sliding layers, and fell backwards, dissolved in the bundles. Avian couldn’t remember how long he lay there, unmoving, blinking slowly up at the sky. Clear, blue, and mocking. He let out a small sigh, and closed his eyes. “Get up,” a rough voice said. He opened his eyes slowly, and the blue sky was immediately replaced by a mass of brown hair and dull blue eyes. “Hi Antigone,” Avian greeted. “Wait, why the hell are you in my backyard?” “Your dad let me in. You bake when you’re falling apart. I was hoping for apple pie and a talk.” There was no apple pie, but Avian liked the sound of a talk. “I’m–“ “Sorry. I know. Everyone’s saying that to me,” Avian said. Being in the family of a tribute always resulted in that awkward tension between condolences and insensitivity. “You’re the first person to look me into the eye, though.” “If it helps, I do sort-of know what you’re going through.” “Is this– sorry, if this is like, rude, or anything – is this how you felt about Nick?” Her older brother had died two years before. Polynices Crawford. Avian remembered the poor guy as a friendly assistant at the local bookshop. “Yeah. And we got through that, didn’t we? We moved on,” she lightly punched him on the shoulder. “You’ll have the strength to move on, too.” That was true, the two still made relatively frequent visits to Nick’s grave. The grief over him has ceased, and there existed a calm appreciation for the young man’s life. “Icarus might not have a grave,” the realisation hit Avian like a pebble on a window. “They’re going to gut him alive.” “He’ll be fine,” Antigone reassured him. “He’s strong. He can handle himself. Everyone here knows he can carry the weight of two men.” She was always so positive, so optimistic. The bags under her eyes and tiredness in class made Avian wonder how much of that positivity was forced. “I should have volunteered,” he said. “Chapter 11 would have been better off losing me than losing Icarus.” Antigone could imagine it. Poor, impulsive Avian rushing up to stage, attempting to volunteer, attempting to save his cousin. Icarus, who always strove to protect his family, would have probably literally throw Avian off stage. “He wouldn’t have let you volunteer. He would sooner break your leg than let you get murdered out there.” “Murdered?” “You’re frail and innocent. And the tributes have no mercy.” She almost made a jest about the two going into the Games by each other’s side. But Antigone knew that Avian valued stability above all things. The only way they could work through this was staying at Chapter 11. Supporting – and maybe eventually mourning – Icarus together. “I’m just so– Antigone, I’m so sorry– It hasn’t even been three h–“ he couldn’t say another word, already a pathetic pile of tears and apologies. Antigone caught him as he collapsed into her arms, and she lightly patted him on the back. She wanted to say something helpful, even just a “you’ll be alright”. But would they? Was “being alright” even an option for them right now? Instead, she attempted to make do with a tight hug, which was soon reciprocated. In her arms, Avian felt safe. A false, lying sort of safeness, a brief light in perpetual darkness, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Voice a whisper, he said, “I hope Icarus gives them hell." Category:Fanfiction Category:Original Character Fanfiction Category:Zena's Storybook Collection